Walk Softly
by Luna Maria Boulevardes
Summary: Oh-yes oh-yes oh-yes they both reach for the gun, but Rachel is quicker and gets it before Quinn does and shoots her brains out anyway.  Faberry.  Depression and suicide warnings.
1. I: Bang

_Walk Softly_

_By L. M. Boulevardes

* * *

_

_Chapter I: Bang_

Oh-yes, oh-yes  
oh-yes we both –

oh yes we both.  
oh yes we both.

reached for the –

gun.  
(the gun  
the gun  
the gun).

oh yes we both  
reached

for the gun.

~ _We Both Reached for the Gun, Chicago_.

Oh-yes-oh-yes-oh-yes they both reach for the gun, but Rachel is quicker and gets it before Quinn does and shoots her brains out anyway. Then the gooey red matters splatters everywhere, and Quinn is horrified because it's all over her and covering her like a stigma. It stains her white dress and blond hair and white skin and it feels like it's sinking in, like it's going to seep through her skin and become a part of her and never ever come out like the bloodstains on her underwear after her first period and the bloodstains on her mother's jacket after she gave birth.

The room smells like smoke and Quinn thinks it might choke her, it's so smoky and chalky and awful in her nose and tickling down her throat. The gunshot is ringing in her ears, and she stands there in shock, looking through the goo on her face down at Rachel's abused body, her hair all messed up now and her clothes stained. And it's weird, because Quinn always knew Rachel to be neat and organized and never, ever show up stained or messy so now that she's a lump on the ground it's unnverving, and it's scary.

That's the thing that makes Quinn start screaming. Because she's never going to see Rachel in one of her stupid yet cute animal sweaters, and she's never going to hear Rachel sniff and start listing all the reasons why she's superior to everyone in Glee (and, okay, everyone in general). She'll never see Rachel strut down the hall with her shoulders back and head held high like nothing is wrong and everything is wonderful, like she's the Queen of the world or better yet, captain of the Cheerios. Rachel will never do any of these things because Rachel is dead, and it's all her fault because Quinn wasn't fast enough to grab the gun from her.

_Oh God, oh God._ This is her punishment, surely. This is because she went and fell in love with Rachel and it's a sin, her mother was right after all. She had thought maybe her mother could be wrong, because she got herself pregnant and hey, there were some good things that came out of that. Even if she had to leave her home because it was a _sin_ to have sex before marriage and she broke that, some good things happened. It's also a _sin_ to fall in love with another girl and she, Quinn, is a _sinner _of the worst sort.

Maybe this is her punishment for having sex, delayed. Or it's the worst kind of punishment – they let her have a taste of happiness and now it's being taken away from her. God, (_don't take the Lord's name is vain, sinner!_) she's so sorry. Why Rachel? Why did Rachel have to die, Rachel who is perfect and wonderful and – and so much better than she is. She should have been trying to bring Rachel to Jesus – Rachel wasn't even a Christian, so this must have been a test and Quinn has just failed –

She hears footsteps that shatter her thoughts, sending it all into a million pieces so her mind is blank blank blank. "Quinn – oh my god!" Mr. Shue exclaims as he stumbles into the Glee room. He looks around with wide eyes at bloody Quinn, who's standing there screaming at the top of her lungs with her eyes closed hoping that if she screams loudly enough she'll wake herself up with this awful nightmare. "Quinn, Quinn!" he calls. She can't really hear him and she doesn't want to because that might make this real and _oh God this is really happening, isn't it?_

_Oh God oh God oh God._

_(Don't take the Lord's name in vain, Quinn, it's a __**sin**__.)_

The silence feels heavy when Quinn finally runs out of breath and stops screaming, and for a moment they stand there, looking at each other as Quinn catches her breath. Then she runs over to Rachel's side and starts shaking her and trying to wake her up.

"Come on, Rachel, please," Quinn begs, more blood leaking over her. _It's so red it's so red_. "Come on, wake up, come on, this isn't funny anymore, don't do this to me," she says, holding her close. Mr. Shue comes up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulder. "Come on, come on – "

"I think we need to go now, Quinn," he says gently. He tugs on her shoulders but she pulls out of his grin, shaking her head. She won't cry, not yet. _This isn't happening, this isn't real – _

She awkwardly hugs Rachel, who is lying in her arms and is already getting so cold, feels so heavy and _gone_. And Quinn tries to kiss her but her lips are rubbery and she doesn't response and this just makes Quinn cry, putting clean streaks through the blood that mares Rachel's (beautiful, exquisite, perfect) face. So Quinn licks her thumb and starts cleaning the blood off, because no one should see Rachel this way (she wouldn't have liked it).

"Quinn, we're going now," Mr. Shue says, pulling her arms away from Rachel's (body). She can't move, she's so scared and so numb and so sad. All she can think is _please open your eyes_, but that doesn't happen. Chocolate and coffee will always taste bitter to her after this day, their color a too-painful reminder. Cinnamon is worse; cinnamon will make her break down crying. "Come on." Quinn cries as he heaves her up, pulling her out the door. There's blood on his clothes too now, and Quinn can't stop staring at it because this is real, this really happened, Rachel's dead and there's nothing she can do about it.

"It's going to be okay," he says, the door shutting behind them as they leave. He pulls down the window shade and locks the door, then puts an arm around Quinn and rushes her to the main office. He puts his jacket around her shoulders, and she hides under it because she can't imagine that people won't react to seeing a girl covered all in blood. She hugs the jacket tightly, sorry that she's getting it dirty and grateful for his steady, guiding presence.

"Shuester, what are you doing with Mommykins?" Sue asks, appearing out of her office like a phantom. Quinn screams and Sue has the surprising humanity to look concerned. "Oh god, is that blood?" _Don't take the Lord's name is vain, it's a sin_.

"We need to call nine-one-one – although – " He cuts himself off when he sees the look on Quinn's face. "We need to call nine-one-one," he says quietly. "And don't let anyone in the Glee room, I'm taking Quinn with me," he tells her. Sue just nods, because even she doesn't have a quip for a girl covered in blood.

"I'll go guard the Glee room," Sue says. And she takes off, too bad at tangling herself in emotions to deal with the waves of sadness that are coming off of Quinn in droves. "You might want to clean up, Quinn," she adds softly. Quinn doesn't respond, just stares after her as she leaves. _Like everyone else_.

"Come on." Mr. Shue is like her guardian angel as he takes control, bringing her to the nurse's office and sitting her on the table. He pulls a hot chocolate packet from a drawer and sets some water to boil, and she wants to tell him that chocolate only fixes bad things in Harry Potter and this is real life. Something stops her though, and instead she just sits there, her stomach one big awful lump in her hips.

"I'm going to call Ms. Pillsbury, and she's going to stay with you until the police come. They're going to want to talk to you, but I'll try to hold them off as long as possible, okay?" Mr. Shue says as he gives her to hot (awful) drink that reminds her of the color of Rachel (sweet) skin. Quinn takes it and says nothing, staring into the steam. "She'll help you get cleaned up too," he adds. She nods again and takes the tiniest little sip of hot chocolate so that Mr. Shue will feel better and feel less helpless because hey, why should both of them suffer?

He stands in the doorway and calls Ms. Pillsbury on his cell phone (how does he have her number anyway? Nevermind, she can't think about that right now). Then he stands there, not talking to her (not that she can speak anyway) and when Ms. Pillsbury comes he squeezes her shoulder like they're passing a baton. She nods, holding his gaze steady with a strength Quinn didn't think she had. Then she slips into he room and Mr. Shue closes the door behind him with a finality that makes Quinn jump. The hot chocolate splashes on her fingers and she can already feel its stickiness starting to percolate.

"Hi, Quinn," Ms. Pillsbury says. She gets a wet paper towel from the sink and with gentle hesitancy goes to wash Quinn's face. But Quinn flinches away and swats at her hand, shaking her head.

"It's the only part of her I have left," she whispers, beginning to shake. "Please don't." She can't explain this morbid thing in her head, this need to hold onto this last part of Rachel, but for some reason she can't let go and get cleaned up. She starts crying again and she can't stop, and the tears are doing with Ms. Pillsbury wanted to do but she wants everyone to see her covered in blood. She wants them to bear witness for the awful things they did to Rachel – and she wants to punish herself for the awful things _she_ did to Rachel.

"Quinn, do you want to talk about anything – about how you feel? What happened?" Ms. Pillsbury asks, gently squeezing her shoulder. Quinn hiccups.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers. She is so, so sorry. She really is.


	2. II: Disaster

_Chapter II: Disaster

* * *

_

_It's a joy to be hidden and a disaster not to be found _

_Dr. D. W. Winnicott

* * *

_

_If you are listening to this CD, it means that I succeeded, and that I am dead_.

* * *

The moment the gunshot rings in the school, the hair stands up on Kurt's arms and a few of the girls in his Home Ec class start screaming. The teacher tells them all to shut up, and after a minute they do, tears shining in their eyes. Then the boys go and try to comfort them, and it makes Kurt a little sick inside. _Something bad is happening and they're flirting in the corner, _he thinks with disgust. The boys put their (strong, manly) arms around the girls' (slender, delicate, helpless) shoulders and whisper in their ears that _it's all going to be okay_. Kurt knows that it's not.

He has a sick feeling in his stomach that this has something to do with the gun, the one that felt so heavy in his hands last week, its cool metal making his shiver. His gun – well, his father's gun, to be precise. It's the one that just went _BANG_, he's sure of it. The one that he stupidly, stupidly gave Rachel because she said that she was scared. She told him that people were driving by her house late at night, and they were calling her terrible names and threatening to do horrible things to her and she just wanted to feel safe, okay? They egged her windows like they egged her at school and it was awful to see those yellow yolks staining her view (she cleaned it up _every day_ so her fathers would _never ever see _and she would be _something to be ashamed of _she was _already a failure wasn't she yes she was Rachel the Friendless no matter how many times she whispered I don't care_).

She said that she was scared and she needed protection (the kind Brittany was talking about, not the kind his dad was, thankyouverymuch). She said that if she had a gun, she could do anything and Kurt knew that wasn't true, and he tried to explain that to her because he'd been around guns all his life. All it took was one blink-pull, and something could happen when you never meant it to. But Rachel said that that wasn't true, if you read the magazine and newspaper articles you would know that the biggest mistake people make is hesitating and waving a gun around that you didn't use. _Shoot to kill_, she said with a hard look shining in her cinnamon-colored eyes. _BANG. _And she laughed and Kurt jumped and felt all funny and scared inside.

"It's my dad's gun, Rach, I can't," he told her. "He'll notice it's missing, and he'll want to know where it is. And we're just starting to get back on track, you know? I don't want to make him mad," Kurt said, biting his lip and staring at his lap. "I am sorry. I wish I could do something or you. Maybe you should tell your dads. Or the ALCU." _Or anyone other than me, because we're not really friends anyway and I'm not totally sure I even like you. _

"Then just give it to me for just one night, okay? So they'll know I have it and they'll never come for me again," Rachel begged. "I won't even shoot it or anything. Just one night, Kurt. He won't know the difference for one night," she reasoned. "Come on."

"Rachel, I – "

"Everyone hates me, Kurt," she whispered suddenly, tears shining in her brown eyes (but not falling – never falling because she was Rachel Berry). "They do," she repeated feebly when he opened his mouth to protest. She wrung her hands in her lap, biting her lip and just looking so sad. And Kurt, because for all his stereotypical gay behavior, he was still raised by a guy who didn't do emotions and he couldn't stand it when someone started crying said yes.

He said _yes_.

And now his dad is going to be in _so much trouble_ because Rachel had shot someone. Were they dead? Was it Finn? Oh, god, please let it not be Finn! If it's Finn Kurt is just going to cry and cry because he loves Finn like a brother – hell, Finn _is _his brother for all intents and purposes, the only thing missing is a ring on Carol's finger. And yeah, he had a crush, but getting to know Finn as a person has changed things between them. It happened slowly, but there would be nights when they would hang out in their room together, bored and restless and during that time they would just talk, usually over video games, and for once in his life Kurt felt a little normal.

Now all he can think about is blood marring Finn's face, blood on his chest and god, he knew that Rachel was in love with Finn but he didn't think she would get so angry that he didn't seem to love her back. Finn was just – he was taking his time. The whole thing with Quinn scared him and burnt him and he just wanted to go slow with Rachel because he's scared of everyone, it has nothing to do with her. Hell, Rachel could have been _Brittany_ and it wouldn't have mattered.

But at the end of the day Rachel loves Finn and he isn't good at showing her that he loves her and that's why Rachel shot him (because she _did_ shoot him, didn't she?). Kurt feels like he's going to throw up, his stomach hurts so much. So he does the stupid thing that you're not supposed to do. He takes out his phone and texts Finn.

_Finn, are you okay? _

Thankfully, there's only a moment of pause before his phone vibrates in his pocket, and Kurt is never so grateful for that little screen to light up.

_I'm fine, you?_

Relief fills him. _Oh, thank god_. He texts Finn back, smiling stupidly to himself because he's so happy that Finn's not dead. Except he's still got that sick feeling in his stomach, and he's wondering now what _did _happen.

_Yeah, I'm good_.

He grimaces, trying to get the bad taste out of his mouth. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it's someone from Vocal Adrenaline, so he won't have to feel sorry about things. After all, that Jesse bastard broke Rachel's heart, and Kurt can certainly relate to the awful _please-go-away-and-die_ feeling that that evokes. Maybe Rachel finally got the revenge she so desperately wanted. Maybe it's all going to be okay, because Rachel did whatever it was that she had to do and she'll just be safe now. Safe and okay it won't mean anything it won't it won't –

"Hey you two, this may be Bio but you will not be giving a demonstration in my classroom!" the teacher yells, jumping up to go after two of Kurt's classmates. He sighs (_the heterosexuals feel the need to constantly flaunt, it's so annoying)_ and uses it as an excuse to slip out of the classroom. If Rachel has done something with _his_ father's gun, he has a right to know, doesn't he? He can't let his father get in _trouble_ because _he_ made a _stupid mistake_. Burt's all he's got. Not that he doesn't love Finn and Carol, but it's just not the same. Blood makes it different.

He takes a right turn down the hallway, heading towards the Glee room. He thinks that the shot came from there, although he seriously doesn't want to believe that. That would taint the Glee room, and that's one of the few places in the school that still feels safe for him. So instead he goes over to the nurse's office, because it's easier to say he felt sick than to come up with some other lie. The school is so very quiet, and he's starting to get scared now because that's always a bad thing in the horror movies, right?

"Gay Cheerio, what are you doing out here?" Kurt freezes at the sound of Sue Sylvester's sharp, icy voice (_if voices came with pictures hers would include kittens being stabbed with icicles_, Kurt thinks with a shudder).

"Coach Sylvester," he squeaks. "I, um, I don't feel well," he tells her. She narrows her eyes at him, and looms over him like the giant she is. God, he likes to think he's strong but when Sue Sylvester gets up in his face like that he's ready to roll over and play dead. _Stop freaking out_.

"You're at the Glee room, Brittany. Nurse's office is that-a-way. Now, if you're coming to see the show, I can assure you that you're in for disappointment. Now go pretend to be sick and stop texting all your friends to come and join you for popcorn and a grand ol' time at the Glee room, because you're not seeing this," she hisses. For a moment her face softens, and that's even scarier than her being angry because oh god, what could crack _Sue_? "You don't want to see this, kiddo, trust me," she says, her voice getting quiet and – dare he call it _gentle?_

"What happened?" he asks, the words flying out of his mouth as he slowly begins to panic (oh god, his stomach hurts). "Is someone dead? What happened?" he asks, trying to shove past her and get to the door. "Oh god, oh god."

"Stop," Sue orders, and like the fool he is Kurt obeys. "You are not getting in there. You are going to the Nurse's office." She points him down the hall, and her gaze leaves no room for any kind of argument.

"Fine," Kurt huffs. He goes, feeling the weight of her stare on his back the entire time. As he's walking, he has to press himself against the wall to get out of the way of the medics who are rushing down. And that's when he pukes, because this means that something terrible really has happened, and it's all his fault. He never should have let Rachel have that gun, he's a terrible person. How is he going to live with himself after this? He's going to need that God that Quinn knows so much about (although he can't say for sure that he wants Quinn's God, because let's look at what happen to _her_).

"We have another one, I'm taking him in!" One of the medics shouts. She grabs Kurt, forcing him to kneel next to her as he empties the contents of his stomach. _Ew, this is so gross. And embarrassing_, he adds as an afterthought. This had better not ruin his designer jeans or scarf. "Take it easy, kid."

"Okay, okay," he says, trying to get a hold of himself. He catches sight of the bloody footprints that lead from the Glee room though (How did he not notice before?) and that makes him puke all over again though. _Oh god,_ he thinks. _This is real and something horrible has happened.

* * *

_

_Aba, Daddy, I want you to know that I love you so much, and that I'm so sorry because I know this will hurt you. Please believe me when I say I had to do this. Please don't be sad, because I don't want that. If you ever loved me, please live for me. Oh god, I'm so scared. Oh god – _

_(CD stops for a minute, but before it cuts out there's the sound of Rachel crying.). _

_(CD turns back on and her voices if slurred with tears still). _

_I love you Aba. I love you Daddy. Don't be scared. It's going to be okay now, I promise_.

* * *

Note: Aba is the Hebrew word for "Father"; in this story, Rachel's Jewish father is "Aba" and her other father is "Daddy".


	3. III: Lost

Chapter III: Lost

* * *

_I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had. _

_~From the television show The Wonder Years

* * *

_

_Quinn, will you pray for me? _

_ I understand that maybe you're not too big on God right now after everything that's happened, but I figure you're the best shot I've got – so could you do that? I've made up my mind, but it would be nice to know that someone's going to remember me. I don't know, this is stupid. But – I have to ask anyway, okay? So – please pray for me? Please, Quinn?

* * *

_

Finn may not be the brightest bulb of the bunch, but when he hears the gunshot and gets a scared text from Kurt, he knows that something's up. For a moment his stomach flip-flops and he wonders if this is Kurt's stupid crush rearing it's ugly head again, but then he tells himself he's being stupid and paranoid. So he just texts him back and then puts his phone in his pocket, inching to text but worried about getting his friends in trouble.

"This sucks, man," Puck says, leaning his head against the lockers. Finn shrugs. At least in the locker room they can talk about whatever until this whole thing is over. They could probably even leave if they wanted (and Finn kind of wants too, given that there's obviously some kind of maniac in the school who's going around with a _gun_), but they always learned in those school drills to _stay put_. So Finn is staying, ass on bench.

"Tell me about it," Finn agrees. He too leans against the lockers, because although he's loath to acknowledge he has anything in common with Puck, it is getting tiring trying to sit upright. If Rachel were here, she would lecture him about the importance of good posture insofar as good singing and the necessity of keeping the trachea clear and the windpipe straight (the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, Finn). And he would pretend he understood words like _insofar_ and _trachea_.

"I wonder what's happening?" Puck says, looking around as though the walls might speak, share the secrets they're whispering among each other. But no sound comes from the walls, and Finn and Puck are left to their own imaginations to think about what might be happening.

Finn's thoughts turn to Rachel, and a smile creeps onto to his face that he hopes Puck doesn't see and ask him about. Something has been changing in him lately – he's starting to think he might love her. It's only been a couple of months, true, but that's not the point. He might love Rachel (a shiver runs up his back).

The only problem is that even thinking about that? Man, that's scary shit right there. After everything that happened with Quinn (Quinn, who lied!) he wasn't sure how he was going to get over that. After all, the last time he thought he was over it things went very, very badly. It wasn't fair to Rachel that he used her like that, and he's really sorry. He never wants to hurt her like that again.

He was surprised when she agreed to go out with him, actually. He thought maybe he had hurt her too much, that she would shake her head (_no, Finn)_ and turn away, her perfect hips swinging as she walked away (so mesmerizing, so _desirable)_. But instead a soft glow came behind her eyes and she said _yes_. She said _yes_ and he couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the day after that because he was going on a date with Rachel.

"You can ask me anything, Finn," Rachel told him later. She reached up to cup the side of his face, smiling sweetly at him. (_She is so damn beautiful_).

"What?" he asked, confused but trying so so very very hard not to make her angry (Quinn was always getting angry – _God, you're stupid, Finn! Ohmigod, I just took the Lord's name in vain! Oh my God! Oh my God, that's four times now – it's a sin to take the Lord's name in vain! A sin!_).

"I mean it. You can ask me anything, and I'll answer you truthfully, okay? Because I want our relationship to be built on honesty," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "You know, Jesse lied to me about a lot of stuff, and Quinn lied to you, so I just want you feel safe, and feel like I won't keep stuff from you, okay? I will never lie to you Finn. Never," she swore. "So you can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer." Then she gave him the sweetest smile, and he kissed her because Finn's always been more an action than a wordy kind of guy.

She tasted like apples and chamomile tea, and he even found a sick-sweet drop of honey in there too. It made him think of autumn, which made him think of football season, and that made him think of Quinn in her little Cheerio skirt and _that_ made him think of Rachel in a Cheerio uniform (because if he was going to be fantasizing about anyone right now, it damn well better be Rachel because he was pretty sure she could read minds and wouldn't be happy if she wasn't the star). Rachel would look good in a Cheerio uniform, he thought. He would have to find some way to snag an extra one, keep his fingers crossed that Rachel was into that kind of thing.

That had been a good night. He would have savored it more if he had known what was coming, because lately things have been – well, Rachel's been weird lately. Like, more so than usual. She's been, like, _really_ quiet, even at Glee practice. And she isn't wearing makeup, and her clothes are getting baggier and uglier. One day, she came to school in jeans and a white t-shirt with a navy cardigan. Her hair was unwashed, thrown back in a braid. And not that Rachel isn't totally capable of pulling off the effortless-cute look, because she is, but the thing is that – that's not like her. Finn knows he isn't smart, but he notices things, he does. It's the putting them all together part that he has trouble with.

"Do you love me?" Rachel asked last week when they were sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling. They were fully dressed, because after the baby thing Finn's been a little scared of getting physical with a girl because apparently she really could get pregnant. (_What, did you think it was an urban legend before? That the stork brought babies?_). His mom didn't even make him keep the door to his room open, that's how freaked out he was about getting Rachel pregnant. He kind of wished she would, because just because he wasn't going to try anything didn't mean that he wanted everyone to _believe_ that he wasn't going to try anything, you know? Although Kurt warned him about desecrating the room, so that made him feel a little better (once Rachel explained to him what the word _desecrate_ meant, anyway).

"Finn, I asked you a question. Do you love me?" Rachel said, still staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life. Finn shrugged, and prayed that he would be able to get out of this one.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. She smiled, tried to open her mouth, but he was quicker and he kissed her, shutting her up quite effectively. Or it would have if she hadn't pulled away and frowned at him.

"Don't try to distract me – " She cut herself off, grimacing. "Actually, never mind." Then she straddled him and began kissing him fiercely, grinding her hips on his. He grabbed her, holding her in place as she rocked against him. She was so soft and warm, and his jeans were getting tighter as she ran her fingers under his shirt, over his chest.

"Rach – "

"Shh," she said, shaking her head. "There's only one thing I want to do right now. And only one person I want to do it with," she said, nuzzling his neck. And he didn't know what to do, because what kind of guy was he if he turned down sleeping with his freaking girlfriend? What kind of –

"Finn, what did I say about desecrating the room?" Kurt's voice was like a godsend. Finn almost let out a sigh of relief, but remembered at the last minute and instead gave a little laugh.

"Sorry, dude," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Kurt rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

"You could at _least_ give me some warning. One more minute and I would have seen you two doing the horizontal tango, and that's an image I don't need scarring me for the rest of my life, thank you very much. Do you know how expensive therapy is?" he chided. Rachel narrowed her eyes at him, then shot Finn a smile as she dismounted.

"I should go home," she said. "Finn, I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, sitting up at watching he disappear upstairs. When the door clicked shut behind her he flopped back down on his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what was wrong with him that he couldn't tell her he loved her and he couldn't bring himself to fuck her. Because really, he should have been at least able to do one of those things for her, right?

Now, sitting in the locker room with Puck, he can't help but think about her, and hope she's okay. He sends her a text (_hey, are you alright? Do you know what's going on?_), but she doesn't respond. He expected as much. Rachel is a good girl who doesn't text during classes, even when the whole world is falling apart, even when she's only in stupid study hall. He's thinking that maybe he'll tell her he loves her soon –

"Dude!" Puck exclaims. He leaps up from the bench and startles Finn so much that he falls off. (_God, Finn, you are such a girl._). Finn grumbled and gets up, figuring that if he yells at Puck enough it will ease some of his humiliation. To his surprise, however, Puck is paying him absolutely no attention. Okay, he's got Finn's attention now.

"What?" Finn asks, coming over to look over his shoulder at the phone. Puck's brows are knit with worry, and he's biting his lip. "Seriously, dude, you're starting to freak me out," Finn says when he doesn't answer.

"Look at this, it says that someone's dead," Puck says, shoving the device in Finn's face. "Someone got shot, Finn. Someone at McKinley is fucking dead, man." And then Finn feels like he's going to throw up or faint, because this doesn't happen in real life, right? People don't _die_, people don't _get shot_. This is high school, for Chrissakes. This is _Lima, Ohio_ – bad things don't happen _here_. That's why he and Mom came here after his dad died.

His stomach feels sick, and he's starting to worry because _Rachel didn't answer_. And yeah, it's probably fine, but he's kind of scared now. What if he never gets to make love to her now, or tell her he loves her? What if _she's _the – no, he won't think about that. It's too painful and scary to think about, so he won't let himself go there. Instead he sits back down, trying not to freak out. Everything is (fine). He is not going to get upset about something that he doesn't even know is true.

* * *

_Finn, I love you. I really do. It's okay that you don't love me, that's not why – _

_That's not why, okay?_

_I just want you to know that I love you, and you shouldn't have been burdened trying to love me, because that's not fair to anyone. I know that I'm not lovable; I used to think maybe I was, but now I know that that was wrong. _

_It just got so hard, you know? The slushie facials, the stickiness getting in my hair and ruining my makeup and my clothes. I mean, that's why I wore ugly animal sweaters, would you wear something cute, something you actually liked, if you knew it was going to get ruined? You're not supposed to give your precious things to people who can't be trusted with them._

_Too bad I forgot that. _


	4. IV: The Reddest Red

Chapter IV: The Reddest Red

* * *

_I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had. _

_~From the television show The Wonder Years

* * *

_

Something bad has happened.

Mercedes knows this. She knows it like she knows how to breathe, like she knows that there's earth beneath her feet and sky above her head (or would be, if she were outside, but that's not the point). So she's prepared for something when she sees the police storming through the halls, even though the blue uniforms still make her head hurt with worry. Then the medics rush down the hall and she hears the high voice of the _Lima Post_'s head reporter, and she knows something is going down. She doesn't know what, but she figures that that's only a matter of time.

She _is_ surprised when Mr. Shue comes in and tells her that she has to come with him. All the other kids in class look at her, and she blushes but squares her shoulders and reminds herself that no one can bring her down without her permission. What she doesn't let herself think about is what this could mean, how bad this news could be. Because if she doesn't let herself go there, she won't put herself through the unnecessary pain of worrying about something that might not even be true. It's what she tells herself about dating; she'll worry about men not think she's beautiful when it becomes a problem, when she's forty and lives with three cats.

"Thanks, Mercedes," Mr. Shue sighs in relief. He smiles at her, and she tries to smile back even the gesture feels foreign and funny on her lips. He begins walking down the hall, and she follows, tries to keep pace with his longer strides.

"It's no problem," she tells him, training her eyes on the navy of his sweater-vest. "What's going on?" She can't help but ask. She's in wonder of the people swarming the building, of the students who aren't populating the hallways. It's never this quiet here, and frankly she's a little disturbed by it now. It's like after Quinn moved out and her room got all quiet at night and it just didn't feel right anymore. But then Quinn started sleeping over again for reasons that didn't become clear until Quinn's sleep-talking betrayed her.

_Rachel_. Quinn's whispering woke Mercedes up in the middle of the night, and she sat straight up in confusion. _Rachel_. It was a little louder this time, and Mercedes' head was a little clearer and she knew that it was coming from the other side of the room. _Rachel_, Quinn said, and Mercedes stared at her in fascination.

"Revenge dream?" she chuckled, watching as anxiety flashed across Quinn's (porcelain) face. "God, you would think they would stop having at it at some point, but no," she mused, sighing. Everyday in Glee practice, it was the same. Quinn screaming at Rachel and Rachel screaming back and if anything, it was _worse_ lately. Quinn didn't even have baby hormones to blame anymore, so Mercedes really didn't understand what was going on. She suspected that it had something to do with Rachel dating Finn, but she didn't ask and Quinn didn't offer any explanations.

_Rachel!_ Quinn's hips bucked at the ceiling, and Mercedes felt her eyes widen because oh, it was _that_ kind of dream, wasn't it? Oh, shit. Quinn was having – was having _that kind _of dream about Rachel (and in her room, nonetheless!) and only Mercedes knew about it. She stared, watching as Quinn's face scrunched up tight and thought, _well, sometimes girls have these thoughts and it doesn't mean –_

"Rachel, please, I love you," Quinn said, her voice dropping to such a pleading, painful whimper that Mercedes couldn't block it from her mind. _Rachel, Rachel_. It echoed in her head through school the next day, playing memories of Quinn's frightened features. Images of Rachel lifting her neck as Quinn leaned in for a (quivering, frightened, desiring) kiss flitted in her mind and she trying to shake them out to no avail. _Quinn, I'm going to kill you, I swear_.

She grimaced as she came to came to Glee practice, steeling herself for having even more images inundate her mind. As she took her seat, however, she had only questions racing through her mind. Kurt was talking next to her and she couldn't hear him, couldn't' focus on the words coming out of his mouth. Should she talk to Quinn? Should she tell Quinn what she knew? She certainly didn't want to alienate her friend, but on the other hand she didn't know that she could sit on the secret, keep it all to herself.

She almost moved when Quinn walked in the room, but the sad look on her face stopped her. Quinn looked like a beaten puppy, the way her eyes were downcast and the way her shoulders sagged. She looked like it had taken every last ounce of energy for her to just get herself to practice – there was nothing left over for a Big Confrontation. So Mercedes stayed in her seat, content to observe the longing looks Quinn gave Rachel when she (thought) no one was looking.

"Quinn, do you want to sleep over again tonight?" Mercedes couldn't help but ask, grabbing her to linger in the classroom after practice ends. Quinn frowned, shrugged, forced a smile (_liar_).

"It's really okay," she said, the mask settling into place over her features. "But I appreciate the offer – "

"Quinn, I really think you might want to sleep over more often," Mercedes said, biting her lip to try to hold the words in. Quinn gave her a curious look, tilting her head to one side in (cute) confusion.

"What's going on?" she asked suspiciously, eyes darting around the room in search of people, a camera.

"You know you talk in your sleep?" At that Quinn blushed, her whole face going the reddest red Mercedes had ever seen.

"I – oh my – sorry!" she squeaked, her eyes going wide. "I didn't – what did I say?" Her fists curled up in anxiety, her brows knit together even as she seemed to be trying to stay calm, to stop herself.

"It's okay," Mercedes said gently, but then Quinn started crying (_it's not okay, it's not okay_) and ran into Mercedes' arms, her whole (tiny) body shaking with sadness.

"I'm a freak of nature," she whispered, her lips sending little vibrations along Mercedes' arms. "It's unnatural, and it's wrong, and she's the only one who brings it out in me. I hate her. I hate her – it's a _sin_," she hissed.

_Man shall not lie with man as he does a woman – it is a detestable sin_.

"God loves you," Mercedes said. And when Quinn cried harder and shook her head, she said it louder (_God loves you!)_ and she said it over and over until Quinn stopped crying (and maybe started to believe?). She took the small girl home, and woke up that night to Quinn tapping on her window (_can I please come in and sleep here tonight?_).

Now, as Mr. Shuester takes her down the hall not saying anything, she's wondering what's wrong and _sure_ that it has something to do with Quinn because Quinn's parents wouldn't come and Mercedes would. Is Quinn inconsolable? Is she dead? No, they wouldn't bother with Mercedes if Quinn were _dead_ – unless they want her to identify the body? But why wouldn't Quinn be at a hospital, why wouldn't they call her mom and dad? She knows that when someone dies traumatically, they often stick them in the ambulance and call them at the hospital rather than on the scene (_we're so sorry, we did everything we could_.) So it must just be that Quinn is hysterical for so reason, and they want her to comfort her _(does Quinn have the gun?_).

She isn't prepared for what she sees when she enters the tiny nurse's office, and Quinn is sitting on the table and sobbing. As a matter of fact, Mercedes (shamefully) turns on her heel and hightails it to the bathroom to puke a couple of times before she can even _think _about going back to that room, because Quinn is covered in blood and it's horrifying and disgusting and this isn't tv and that isn't ketchup. Yeah, that's real blood and that's a hell of a lot of it and that means something _really bad_ has happened.

"Mercedes, are you okay? Can I get you anything?" Mr. Shue asks, his concerned voice coming through the door. Mercedes shallows her pride (and the acidic, spitty aftertaste in her mouth) and shakes her head to the mirror before remembering that he can't see her. "Can I get you something?"  
"I'm okay." The words come out and she hears them, but doesn't quite connect that she's the one speaking. She watches herself turn the doorknob and push the door open, coming into the (bright, shining) light.

"Hey, Quinn," she forces herself to say. "What's going on?" she asks, trying to ignore the (blood, blood!) all over her. Quinn bites her lip and fresh tears spill from her eyes, falling to her dress. The red runs pink.

"Look what they did to her," Quinn says, standing up and pushing past Ms. Pillsbury. She stands there in all her bloodied glory, daring Mercedes to look away and her first thought is, _oh my god Quinn's dad killed Rachel_.

"Quinn – " She moves in to hug her, but Quinn backs away, shaking her head.

"Look what they've done. Look what I've done," she wails, her lower lip quivering. "I lost her." And then Quinn cries again, and Ms. Pillsbury says some comforting nonsense that doesn't seem to really help. Actually, Mercedes is starting to think that maybe someone ought to be comforting Ms. Pillsbury.

"Quinn, Mercedes is here to stay with you while you talk to the police," Mr. Shue says, trying to ignore the tears and (somehow) get through to her. Quinn shakes her head (_I'm not ready leave the blood the only part I have left –)_ "Quinn, you have to talk to the police officers." And he's trying to be gentle, but he's shaken too and he wants her to talk so the police will go away and this whole nightmare can start to be over (or at least processed in the privacy of one's own home).

"I won't!" And no sooner does Quinn speak those words than a flash go off, and they all turn to look, Quinn still hiccupping.

"Aw, shit," Mr. Shue says. "Goddamn reporters! Don't they have something better to do?"

_No, _Mercedes thinks, watching his face crumble in despair as Quinn goes blank. Because things like this don't happen in Lima.

Whatever it is that happened, anyway.

* * *

_You are my sweetest downfall._

_I loved you first._

_I loved you first._

_Beneath the sheets of papers lies _

_My truth._

_I have to go, I have to go._

_That's me covering Regina Spektor's Samson. Seemed appropriate, no? Because I have to go now – and because there are so many people who I loved first. Who __**loved**__ you before me, Jesse? Hmm? I – _

_I'm turning this off now._

_(The sound of fumbling.)_

_(A deep breath)._

_(Crying)._

_Oh god I'm so scared I'm so scared I wish there way another way . . . _

_But everyone hates me. _

_Everyone __**hates**__ me. _


End file.
